


Babygirl

by Aspidities



Series: Smutcation Quickies [2]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Babygirl/Daddy Kink, Belts, Daddy Kink, F/F, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 10:18:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14353452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aspidities/pseuds/Aspidities
Summary: Waverly has a conflict about that name. You know the one. *smirk*(Smutcation Quickies #2)





	Babygirl

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my Smutcation Quickies! These are 1500-3000 word one shots for various fandoms, as a way to keep myself motivated during my long two weeks off. 
> 
> Please check out my [ Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bitterbones87) for more info, to suggest a quickie prompt, or to keep up on updates!

It’s not that Waverly doesn’t _like_ it when her sister calls her Babygirl. That’s their thing. That’s Wynonna, the one and only, and she wouldn’t trade her sister or even her semi-sexual nicknames for the world.

But there’s definitely something different about the name when Nicole calls her that. And lately it’s been hard to feel anything but tingles when she hears those two simple-but-somehow-dirty words, strung together. _Baby. Girl_. Two entirely different, non-sexual concepts, but _fuck_ , when you put them together….

Nicole says it in that low, easy drawl of hers, leaning across table as she reaches for Waverly’s hands. “You ready to go, babygirl?”

Waverly jumps a little and looks around the Black Badge conference room guiltily, as if Jeremy, engrossed in his computer, could read her thoughts from behind the glass in the lab. “Ni- _cooole_ ,” she whines, aware she is blushing. “I thought we agreed not to use that word in public?”

Her voice has a rising, cracking lilt that gives her away, and Nicole’s smile is slow like molasses and just as honey-rich, thick with sweetness. Her fingers play along Waverly’s inner wrist, and the slow touch there reminds the younger girl just what those calloused, pistol-quick hands can do. She takes in a little breath, and the older woman’s fingers close around her hands.

“You don’t like it?” Haught asks, faux-wounded, rounding her eyes. Her smile gives her away; appearing at the corners of her mouth before she can stop it.

“It’s not that, it’s just-“ Waverly takes a quick look to make sure Jeremy is still occupied behind his pane of glass. “Not where people can hear it.”

“What’s the matter with ‘babygirl’?” Nicole asks, pseudo-innocent, practically batting her lashes as the smaller brunette grits her teeth.

 _Oh you know damn well what’s the matter_ \- she nearly spits the words out loud, but swallows them back behind a forced grin instead. “Honey.” She grinds. “You know what’s the matter with…” (she gulps) “…with that name.”

_It makes me wet._

That’s the thing they’re dancing around, both of them; Nicole gleefully and Waverly in decorous fury. It makes Waverly _wet_ when Nicole calls her ‘babygirl’, or ‘baby’, or ‘little girl’ or anything small and kinda-sexist and kinda-condescending. _Really_ wet. Like, soaking and unavoidably, _uncomfortably_ wet and _no one needs to know that, damn it._ Especially not Doc or Dolls, who could walk in at any moment with the number one person she does _not_ need to find out: Wynonna. Wynonna who could smell her from a mile away and would probably walk in cheerfully asking who made the place smell like a Texas whorehouse.

 _Jesus, no_. Waverly shudders and sends a prayer to every God she knows of (and there’s, like, _thousands_ , thanks to all that Sumerian) that she will not run into her sister as she digs her nails into Nicole’s arm and practically drags her out. She yells a quick ‘gotta go Jeremy, see you later’ over her shoulder at the surprised technician, who drops his headphones and waves an awkward goodbye. The sheriff’s deputy she has by the arm gives her an amused look and allows herself to be towed to the parking lot, but once they get to Nicole’s big Crown Vic cruiser, it’s a different story.

Officer Haught is all over her when they get in the car, not caring who may see them necking in the parking lot of the police station, and for once, Waverly is glad it’s a blizzard outside in Purgatory. No one is around to see her pinned into the passenger seat, and no one is around to hear her desperate, rising moans as Nicole finds her clavicle and sucks harshly, leaving a wet red mark.

“Oh hell, babygirl, I meant to get you riled,” Nicole confesses hotly into her neck, grinding against her roughly. “I _wanted_ you…”

Waverly shifts; she felt like something was poking her. “I want you, too,” She affirms, stroking the red tendrils of hair that swung into her lover’s face as they kissed. “But not here in the cold car where anyone could see us. Home.” She orders, feeling bossy and yet never-quite-in-control, the dichotomy of her love for Nicole.

The redhead grins and the engine turns over, spitting in protest against the cold, but it starts. The Vic is old and ugly, sure, but reliable. Unlike Wynonna’s stupid shiny bike, which is damn near iced over, up in the barn. The Cruiser takes the ice and snow in stride and eats up the miles, slowly heating up as they take turns putting their hands over the fitful bursts of warmth from the few working vents. They crest the hill slowly, but it eases on into the drive without any trouble, and soon they’re at the Homestead, Waverly fumbling with her gloved fingers in her pockets for the key.

Nicole doesn’t even let her get two steps in the living room before she’s lifted and slammed into the wall, smothered in furious, biting kisses. The redhead is groaning and thrusting into her, grinding, and it’s so fucking hot and everything’s a blur of want and need that Waverly just moans and grinds back, unable to stop herself from going full speed. She loves when Nicole is rough like this, needy and greedy, hands roaming and eyes taking in everything as her lips descend for another pass like a fighter jet strafing Waverly’s small frame with kisses and harsh, panting breaths released against her skin.

She feels it again, though. Something is poking her. She pulls back, and looks down, squinting at the outline of those khakis once more, and something clicks. “Are you-“

Nicole grins, wolffish and sharp. “Oh yeah. Been wearing it all day.”

Waverly gasps, and her jaw works open and shut like a goldfish until she can process better. _All day_? She can’t stop her eyes from shooting back down, to the faint bulge outline in the pressed and starched khakis that she’d ironed for Nicole, just this morning. She didn’t know how she could have missed it, but it was definitely there; the super-realistic packing cock Nicole had purchased from a special website. It was her absolute favorite thing, and combined with Nicole in her boyshorts with the harness built in…oh _fuck_. Her mouth watered.

“You want something, babygirl?” Nicole drawled, pressing against her to show her, once more, the heft of the cock in her pants. “Or are you just happy to see me?”

“I’m supposed to ask you that,” Waverly points out absentmindedly. Her hand snakes between their bodies and cups her lover’s crotch, palming the cock and pushing it back in its base to make the redhead moan. “Although this better not be a snake in your pants.”

“How about a banana?” Nicole jokes, but her voice is breathy and high. She grips Waverly’s wrist. “Shit, don’t do that. Feels too good.”

Waverly wants to make a joke about getting her daily potassium _in_ , but she drops it, although not the cock in her palm. The heat of Nicole’s hand on hers is intent, trying to make her stop, but she doesn’t want to. She wants to jerk Nicole off in the hallway, right here, and it takes every ounce of the redhead’s strength to push her off and stumble them backwards into the living room.

Waverly is feverish and she’s all over Nicole now, role reversal from the car, sucking and nipping and biting at every available bit of skin she can find, while trying rapidly to divest the officer of as much clothing as she can. It’s a mixed bag of success; Nicole yelps, stumbling, but her vest is off and her shirt is just a few quick buttons before that creamy-pale skin and purple lace bra is all Waverly can see. She moans, appreciating, and buries her face in softness, groping for the bra hook…but Nicole bats her away, stern.

“Do I need to give you the belt, babygirl?” She says, with just a hint of growl, and her fingers tighten in Waverly’s brown-silk hair, right at the base of her skull.

Waverly gasps and her eyes fly open and she moans all in one panicked breathless moment. _Jesus_. The _belt_. The _words_. That _grip_. She wants it. All of it. She looks helplessly up at her love, letting her lips round open in a silent ‘o’.

“I think that’s a yes.” Nicole, accurate as ever, sums up. She massages the brunette’s trapped head with her hand fisted in Waverly’s hair, and she guides her, roughly-but-surely to the couch, or, to be more accurate, over the arm of the couch. Waves grasps onto the faded floral throw cushions and hangs tight for dear life.

The wetness that escapes her when she hears the belt buckle’s heavy clink, and the snakeskin slither of it escaping the loops…that’s enough to drown her.

She looks over her shoulder, and Nicole’s khakis are down to her boots, and the cock is sticking out, proud and tall from her boyshorts, lewdly prominent. The harness holds it up, bobbing, as the officer steps from her pants and tugs her boots free. Waverly licks her lips, mewling a little.

Her jeans are roughly yanked down, as Nicole forces her top up, pushing up until her bra is revealed and the redhead dismissively pinches the clasp, letting her breasts fall free almost as an afterthought. Her strong, calloused, gun-toting hands are busy holding her down, roaming over the skin of Waverly’s exposed, panty-covered ass, and nudging her thighs apart. Waverly can’t hold back the moans, and she digs her nails so hard into the pillow that a feather works free.

When the leather drapes against the skin of her thighs, she lets the moans deepen, lets herself feel the anticipatory tingle….the fear….the lust….all in one like a Dr. Bronner’s soap bottle label. Nicole is trusted, and this avenue isn’t altogether new to them…although not as thoroughly explored as Waverly is coming to realize she’d like. She loves it when Nicole is rough with her. When it’s dirty talk and dirty deeds between the two of them, whose shared love shines _so_ bright even under the filth.

When it’s Babygirl and Daddy’s Belt.

“Do it, Daddy,” she says, then, letting her lashes fall, and turning her head. “Punish your Babygirl.”

Nicole groans, and she thrills to it, knowing that their shared, filthy world has a similar effect on her lover as it does to herself. She knows Nicole likes the power and the possession and the perversion of being called Daddy. She knows her lover likes to take control. Likes to make her feel small. Make her feel safe. She knows Nicole is damp beneath her boyshort harness, beneath the base of the cock, and she raises her ass higher, wiggling. Demanding. _Pleading_.

The first slap of the belt against her thigh is gentle, perfunctory. It’s the warm up, the test. It’s cool on the underside of her ass cheek, and feels smooth. She moans, arching for more, and Nicole obliges, giving her a real smack, a hard one, nice and true across her thigh. The leather is wide and it distributes the hurt evenly, (and of course Nicole would never actually hit her with the metal end) but oh, does it sting anyway. A good, _deep_ sting. She lets her thighs part in anticipation and she can _smell_ herself, smell her want, musky in the air. She knows Nicole can too.

The blows fall then; not like rain, but like hailstones. Thick and fast and hard. She cries out, she whimpers, and she shakes, but she keeps her ass raised, keeps begging for more. The belt thuds against her ass, her thighs, her legs. Nicole’s aim is steady and constant, and the swing of her arm is strong, well-balanced. She knows how to keep the pressure up, how to keep the pain just on the edge of the sensation. She knows what Waverly wants, what she needs.

When it’s over, she pushes back to feel the cock, grinds her sore, reddened ass against that hyper-realistic cyberskin, and she lets her wetness coat it, lets Nicole know she wants more. The redhead grunts, pushing involuntarily into her, and Waverly smirks, reveling in her victory. It’s short-lived as Nicole slaps her ass again, with her hand this time, and says in a gravelly, clearly-affected voice: “Get upstairs.”

The chase is on then. She sprints off; giggling, wincing at the pain in her thighs, and knows there will be bruises tomorrow, but this is too _fun_ , now. Leaping like a deer, she crests the stairs, but the redhead is in hot-blooded pursuit behind her, and the growls make her chest pound. She loves how primal, how deep that noise is; it makes her bones thrum and her blood sing.

She lets Nicole catch her in the bedroom (because there’s no point, otherwise) and is lowered to the bed, panting and giggling, squirming still. She steals kisses along Nicole’s jawline, hard as steel, and the older woman grabs her hands and pins them together, sneaking the belt out from where it had been wrapped around her arm. She loops Waverly’s hands together in the leather, pulls it tight, checks with her eyes to see if it hurts, and gets a nipping kiss in confirmation that it does not. Then, she puts the other end of the belt around the headboard and Waverly thrills to hear the metal buckle clink as Nicole ties it off. God, everything about this game; the words, the belt, the sounds….it sets her on _fire_.

And Nicole is the center of that flame.

When she’s bound by her wrists above her head, only then, finally, does Nicole take her panties off, slithering the soaked material down over her knees and past her ankles. Her pussy is exposed, slick and messy with lust, to the cool night air, and she lets her knees fall open, displaying herself. There’s no shame left in her, no need for it. She is loved and she is cherished here. She is _Babygirl_.

Nicole rains kisses and sucking bites on her nipples; making her arch more, spread wider. The redhead’s hand trails down, and she moans to find the dripping heat at Waverly’s core. Her eyes fly open and she looks deep into Waverly’s, brings the fingers up so she can smear the evidence of her pleasure over their shared mouths as they kiss, hot and wet. Waverly does her best to suck them clean, obedient as she can be, until Nicole removes them and her head descends with her hands.

“Be a good girl for Daddy and let me make you cum.” She hears, low and raspy, from the tousled, short-cropped mane of red hair at her belly.

“Oh my fucking _God_ ,” Waverly blasphemes; she can’t help herself. Nicole’s tongue is swirling around her clit, and her fingers are working steadily inside, and it’s all so fucking good and so much. She bucks, gasping, and is held in place by the leather belt and a cool hand on her pelvis, holding her down.

She cums quickly, to their shared surprise, and it’s hard, screaming and thrashing. But Nicole keeps going, rides her through the wave like a rodeo champ ( _a better champ than Champ ever was_ , she observes in the calm part of her brain that can still think) and her fingers stiffen and thrust inside, letting the clenching, gripping muscles part. The redhead is swirling and stroking and teasing her clit back to it’s swollen, ready state, and before long Waverly is thrashing once more, and this time she’s begging.

“Please fuck me Daddy, pleasefuckme, _pleasefuckme_ , _Daddydaddydaddy ohhhh_ —!”

Nicole lets out a strangled moan and she obliges, withdrawing her fingers with a sucking pop. Waverly whimpers and spreads, arches and keens…but all she can do is wait as her lover holds her steady to line the cock up with her entrance. She looks down her body, impatient, and catches sight of Nicole’s darkened, lust-fogged eyes for a burning instant. _I love you_ couldn’t be clearer in her face. Waverly feels it too.

And then she thrusts inside in a smooth stroke that seems to go on forever, and it makes Waverly’s eyes roll up and her head falls back.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” Now Nicole is the one chanting, and it’s harsh and deep in her chest, fiercer than she’d ever be outside of this bedroom, this sanctuary. She lifts Waverly’s legs up, drapes them over her arms, and pumps deep and hard, grunting like an animal. “Take it, Babygirl, _yesss_ , take it all.”

Waverly is seeing stars, seeing splotches of light and color. Her ears are ringing and her eyes are rolling in her head like marbles. It’s so _fucking_ good, so _thick_ and relentless. Splitting her open, stretching her in that delicious burning tingle, and she _loves_ it. Loves all of it. Her clit is slapping against the base of the cock, and she’s going to cum again, soon, so she hooks her knees over Nicole’s arms more firmly and digs her heels into ass, driving the older woman on.

Nicole’s thrusts speed up, and she’s frenzied, snarling beside Waverly’s ear. A stream of absolutely filthy obscenities is pouring from her lips: how she _loves_ fucking Waverly like this, restrained and helpless. How she loves fucking her with the cock, how good it feels rubbing up against her, how she loves watching it split Waverly open. How she wishes she could fill her up and make her _pregnant_ …

And that does it, _that’s_ the image that sends Waverly over into the abyss, screaming Nicole’s name. Seeing herself filled with Nicole’s cum, her belly round…it’s too much. Her orgasm goes on and on, and it spurs the redhead into cumming herself, grunting and groaning and thrusting mindlessly as she moans Waverly’s name over and over. Their climax is shared and intensified by the fantasy, and the spilling of both of their deepest thoughts.

Nicole breathes deeply beside her neck, and then lays a kiss on the skin there. She moves to Waverly’s lips, and they kiss, soft and sweet, before retreating to just gaze into each other’s eyes, coming down from an incredible high. Nicole opens her mouth, clearly intending to say something heartbreakingly lovely-

And then there’s a sharp rap on the door, and an all-too familiar, far-too-cheerful voice filters through the door.

“Hey there, Haught. Whenever you’re done fucking my sister, you and I are gonna have to have a talk about you using my family pet name for her in bed, _mmkay_?”

Nicole goes blank, pale as a sheet. “Oh my God.” She mutters quietly, “I’m going to be sick.”

“And uh… _Babygirl_?” Wynonna continues, in that oh-you-are- _never_ -going-to-hear-the-end-of-this voice that all older siblings infuriatingly share: “Nice job on the Daddy kink. I’m proud.” She whistles.

The whistle seems to break the horrified spell that Waverly is under. She screams. “Wynonna, I _swear to fucking God_ —!”

“Okay, okay, I’m going.” The Earp heir pauses, and they can both practically hear her smug smile. “But just fyi, next time don’t assume the house is empty when y’all wanna get to fuckin’. Doc is downstairs too.”

At that moment, Waverly strongly wishes she’d been taken by the demon. At least then, she maybe won’t feel as horrifically embarrassed as she did just then. 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my [ Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bitterbones87) for more info on how to submit prompts and to keep me motivated to produce more!


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